


of leaving impressions

by sangiebyheart



Series: love in its many forms. [4]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Inspired by the recent logbook, Lap Sitting, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Soft Park Seonghwa, hongjoong coming in for them cuddles, slight introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangiebyheart/pseuds/sangiebyheart
Summary: Seonghwa is—weightless, ironically enough. He feels as though he is floating above, high up in the clouds, surrounded by no more than the low whisperings of the wind and the crispness of fresh air.There, he feels safe, content, so right - it almost appears like a dream, when he closes his eyes.Or, in which Seonghwa does his musings after a performance, and Hongjoong comes to collect his cuddles from his boyfriend.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: love in its many forms. [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015008
Comments: 21
Kudos: 158





	of leaving impressions

**Author's Note:**

> idk either my friends.
> 
> ive made it my personal goal to write all atz ot2 ships and. this is my unofficial beginning. with seongjoong. who woulda thunk

At the back of a stage, it is rarely ever quiet.

Park Seonghwa would know by now, after a solid two years of performing on the daily every other month or so, after having to switch from soft, nervous and jittery to sharp, clean-cut and focused within a matter of seconds.

Seonghwa knows he does it well, and he knows he likes the effects it leaves with anyone watching them; there is a reason, after all, why they are well-known for their intense and captivating stage presence, surpassing pure sync and going above and beyond to create lasting impressions.

Impressions that, at the end of the day, cannot be reversed.

So, there is always a brief moment, afterwards - after the stage is done, and they are all sweaty and smelly and exhausted from dancing and singing and schooling and leveling expressions and movements and everything that could be in or out of place and—it gets heavy, for a second. When the weight is dragging them down to the ground - to where San is currently sprawled out on his back, whining and begging for Yeosang’s attentions - or into the nearest seat they could find - to where Seonghwa has left all of his manners, uncaring of the unceremonious spread of his legs - is where the contemplation starts.

It is where the stage is played before their inner eyes, where the lights still flash and the music is an urgent background tune, louder and louder the more they concentrate on it.

Seonghwa has his doubts, in those moments, more often than not - and although he has long since gotten past his rather vocal insecurities, they never quite go as much as they should, for they only reappear for another try every single time Seonghwa banishes them from his thoughts, either through his own mind’s dutifully gained strength against its own adversaries, or through the praises he discovers in abundance on any social media platform that offers an easy search of their names.

Tonight, Seonghwa’s fatigue is enough to silence even the nagging voice in the back of his head to a mumble that is easy to ignore, what with the people rushing past them, the squeaking of new shoes against the floor, or even the gentle conversations held in a much more subdued tone, now that their lungs’ power has been used up on stage.

Seonghwa is—weightless, ironically enough. He feels as though he is floating above, high up in the clouds, surrounded by no more than the low whisperings of the wind and the crispness of fresh air.

There, he feels safe, content, so right - it almost appears like a dream, when he closes his eyes. All of it does, always. The good and the bad and the cheer and the applause, the memories of it, each experience a treasured one, no matter how familiar the procedure before, the songs they sing, and least of all the interactions they share - with each other, with the audience, with anyone who might not be visible to them, but still draws comfort and inspiration from their little group, though it feels much more like destiny. Something with meaning and significance, something to fully submerge your soul into if you do not know where to place it otherwise.

Seonghwa can trust that, if nothing else - even if there are hiccups, like a shoelace untied, a bracelet thrown to the side, a trip or a fall catching them by surprise - they shall always end of with solace on the other end. They give promises and receive them back.

Seongwha smiles to himself, wide and happy, when he spots his star on the horizon, voice drawn-out into a needy wail for attention - hardly an imitation of San’s own cries, still vastly ignored by Yeosang, but a rather good attempt at it. Seonghwa’s eyes fall to a fast approaching, doubly as tired man, who kicks at a suitcase because it stands in his way, and stumbles between Seonghwa’s thighs, arms reaching out to demand the loving hug he must have been craving for some time now, if he forsought his own rest and peace after a long day of being a  _ leader  _ to seek out Seonghwa and remedy this unpleasant swell of lonesomeness.

Seonghwa is aware of all the cameras - it is part of his profession, to look presentable from all angles, from all sides, even where the cameras are smaller and not meant to capture stellar performances.

Seonghwa is also aware of Hongjoong climbing into his lap without inhibition, or further incentive from Seonghwa himself, and all of a sudden, even though he tries to fight it for show at first, Seonghwa has an armful of his boyfriend in attack mode.

“Hongjoong, there are cameras everywhere,” Seonghwa reminds him, trying and failing to see past Hongjoong’s shoulders when Hongjoong leans closer, further into his vision, joining him in his field of clouds.

“Where? I don’t see anyone around?” Hongjoong pretends to take in their surroundings, fully ignoring the cameraman at a four-meter distance, or the other members sprawled throughout various places of the room. 

Hongjoong is - by a long shot - not the romantic between them, Seonghwa knows. A bit pretentious it is then, that he is taking the saying ‘ _ in their own little world _ ’ a bit too far.

Too much pleasure is derived from it, Seonghwa realizes, as the playful smirk on Hongjoong’s face takes yet another breath away, right as it leaves Seonghwa’s mouth.

Their relationship is as old as ATEEZ itself, but Hongjoong still manages to fluster Seonghwa time and time again, his magic fingers transforming his cheeks into an apple red whenever the tips graze his skin.

Seonghwa knows Hongjoong is bold - he has to be - though he would not have thought Hongjoong to be so open about their relationship while the entire room is so busy around them, let alone a camera only a few feet away.

“Relax, I just came here to cuddle, is that allowed?” Hongjoong murmurs before he rests his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder, light fingers set atop his waist to steady himself, make himself comfortable, before his arms wrap around Seonghwa’s middle and he slumps against him with his full weight. 

“No one is watching us, love,” Hongjoong whispers, sounding half asleep with it, and Seonghwa revels in the gift of affection Hongjoong has given him after a hard day’s work, amused at the fact that Hongjoong would only soften like this when he was sleepy.

The cameraman is packing up, then, Seonghwa realizes. There is not much left to say, now that the show is over and their energies low and falling, and if even Hongjoong admits defeat against fatigue, there is no purpose left to capturing unusually quiet moments of a usually loud and boisterous group.

Seonghwa tilts his head, smiling against Hongjoong’s forehead, letting his hands run up and down Hongjoong’s back to coax him into a nap - Seonghwa has to take any and every opportunity he can get to lure Hongjoong into the arms of sleep, and if he has to endure a generous helping of teasing on their way home later, then so be it.

Even just five minutes of Hongjoong resting will be worth all of the suffering at the hand of his friends.

“Want me to sing you a lullaby?” Seonghwa asks, half-joking, but his voice is so gentle that Hongjoong nuzzles even closer to him, probably to drown out the consistent noise around them. Seonghwa feels rather than hears the answer, right against the bare skin of his neck.

“Yes,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa’s smile almost splits his face in half. High demands of his prince, but Seonghwa is his humble servant - there is not a single thing, big or small, easy or difficult, he would not do for him.

Humming to him, really, is not much of a strain at all.

Especially if Seonghwa can get lost with Hongjoong, following his own melody into a safe harbor, into  _ their own little world _ as Hongjoong already prophecized.

“You did well, today,” someone says, and it could be either of them, or a dream, for all Seonghwa knows.

He does not really care, anyhow.

He is just content to be alive like this.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, let me know with a kudo and a comment. <3 be kind to your content creators. <3
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/sangiebyheart) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/sangiebyheart)


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